


Malfoys Don't Wear Leather

by Icicle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Costume Kink, Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Romance, Scheming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-03 07:57:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icicle/pseuds/Icicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco loses a bet to Hermione, so she gets to pick out his costume for Potter's Halloween Party.  What happens when Draco shows up at Potter's party after Pansy give him a bit of a makeover? A bit of Slytherin mayhem, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. World's Most Horrid Costume

**Title:** Malfoys Don't Wear Leather  
 **Author** :[](http://icicle33.livejournal.com/profile)[ **icicle33**](http://icicle33.livejournal.com/)  
 **Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter or any part of the Harry Potter universe. I'm just obsessed with the characters and like to play with them from time to time. Don't sue. Also, the character of the Vampire Lestat belongs to Anne Rice.  
 **Pairings:** DM/HG, PP/BZ and **urequited** DM/HP  
 **Warnings:** No warnings that I can think of except for silliness and Slytherin antics. This fic features a manipulative Pansy, a bossy and jealous Hermione, as well as shy, but still snarky Draco, and a clueless and smitten Harry.  
 **Summary:** Draco loses a bet to Hermione, so she gets to pick out his costume for Potter's Halloween Party.  What happens when Draco shows up at Potter's party after Pansy give him a bit of a makeover? A bit of Slytherin mayhem, of course.  
 **Author's note:**  This fic was originally written for the [](http://dramionedrabble.livejournal.com/profile)[**dramionedrabble**](http://dramionedrabble.livejournal.com/) community on lj for the October challenge. I expanded it from the original drabble of roughly 1500 words.

Also, this fic takes place in 2003, which is relevant to why a certain costume was chosen. Enjoy.

* * *

  


  


_**Part I: The World's Most Horrid Costume...Ever** _

  
  


****

**: : :**

  
  


"There's no way I'm wearing this costume. It's undignified, Hermione," Draco complained. "Besides, it has ruffles and— _a cape_. I'm not a _bloody_  count!"

Hermione looked over her boyfriend's costume and giggled. It was true that he looked utterly ridiculous dressed up as Count Dracula, but there was no way she was going to tell him that.

She scrunched her nose at him and tried to look as serious as possible.

" _Actually_ Dray, I don't see that much of a difference from how you usually dress—in those ludicrously ornate and old-fashioned robes." She smirked at her boyfriend and blew him an imaginary kiss. "Besides, love,  _you're_  the one that lost the bet."

Draco attempted to cross his arms and glare at her, but his frilly sleeves got in the way.

"How dare you?" he accused, pretending to be seriously affronted. "I  _always_  dress  
in fashionable and classic dress robes; they've been passed down as a wizarding standard and tradition for hundreds of years. Not in a bloody dress!"

She continued to smirk at him and had to bite down on her lower lip to keep herself from laughing.

"And it's Dray-co, not Dray or Drake or any other absurd butchering of my aristocratic ancestral name! How many times do I have to tell you?"

"I thought you were named after a constellation?" Hermione pointed out, her eyes utterly amused. "Nice alliteration though."

"That's not the point!" He was starting to flush in the cheeks now, and Hermione couldn't help but smile.  _He's so adorable when he's angry._

"Alright, Dray-co. Stop being so dramatic. You're wearing it and that's final."

"But Her-mi-one," he whinged, "I look like  _Weasley_  in those ghastly dress robes he used to wear back at school. How could you compare my fashion sense with that of a gormless Muggle? Especially, one with a blood disease. Gross."

Hermione tried really hard to keep a straight face, but she just couldn't help but  shake her head at her drama queen of a boyfriend. Everyone was always telling her that she took herself too seriously and needed to loosen up; obviously, they hadn't met her rather adorable but overly uptight boyfriend. _Thank gods there was one place he wasn't uptight._

"Well Draco, it's not  _my_  fault that you lost the bet. I warned you," she said, her dark eyes gleaming mischievously. " _Now_ , you have to wear whatever costume I say—and I can wear whatever costume I please."

Draco frowned at her again. He seemed to be doing that a lot today.

"But—" he said, pouting. "Do you really have to wear—that?" He gestured at her skimpy French maid costume.

"It's undignified, Hermione. You're going to be a Malfoy one day, and you can't go around being dressed like a common street walker." He paused for a second and rubbed his face. "You'll be ogled by half our class. It isn't fair."

Hermione crossed her arms and pretended to look annoyed even if she was secretly pleased that Draco was jealous.

"Well, I'm  _not_  a Malfoy— _yet_ ," she said pointedly. "And who's going to ogle me anyway? It's just a costume."

"Everyone, Hermione! Everyone!" Draco shouted. "Especially—Potter and his  
redheaded cancer. They can never seem to keep their eyes or hands off  
you."

Hermione blushed faintly.

"Draco," she said evenly. "Harry is  _gay._  How many times do I have to tell you?"

"Yeah, right," he said moodily. "I think I'm going to pretend I'm a fairy, so I can hang all over other people's girlfriends too. _Bloody Potte_ r."

Hermione shot Draco a warning look, and luckily for him, he changed the subject.

"Didn't he just shack up with loony Lovegood anyway? Isn't that why we're going to this blasted charade in the first place?"

"Draco," Hermione said, her tone menacing. "Her name is Luna, you know that. And you  _better_  play nice tonight. No nicknames, no matter how original they are, " she warned, knowing that if she didn't give Draco explicit directions, he would find a loophole and torment her friends. 

"Harry and Luna are _just_ friends and very important to me." She sighed heavily. "Besides, since I moved out Harry needed a new roommate. You know that Harry can't just move in with  _anyone_. He needs someone he can trust. He's Harry Potter."

"Right. And a nice arse doesn't hurt," he muttered, barely loudly enough for Hermione to hear.

"What was that,  _dear_?"

"Nothing," Draco replied innocently. "I said and what about Weasley? What's his excuse for always manhandling my girlfriend? Him and half of the Gryffindors."

Hermione turned bright red; it wasn't often that someone caught her off guard, but her boyfriend had a remarkable talent for doing just that. It was absolutely infuriating.

"Well—I…erm."

"Exactly," he said, smirking with that all too familiar  _I-told-you-so_  look on his arrogant, but devastatingly handsome face.

"Come on—don't be like that," she said softly. "You're just bitter because you have to dress up as a vampire."

Draco sighed and locked eyes with Hermione, his grey eyes bright and earnest. "It's not just that. You can do whatever you'd like." He paused for a second and looked away. "It's just that—I don't think it's a good idea for you to wear  _that_  costume. It's not you," he said reasonably and met her gaze again.

"Draco—"

"No, let me finish. You're not  _that_  type of girl, and I'm surprised you're not against it anyway—men forcing women to dress up in scantily clad maid outfits. It seems quite sexist—misogynistic really—having men objectify women that way. I for one—am completely against it." He smiled at her slightly. "The Hermione I know, _she_ would never compromise her morals that way— _especially_ not to fit in with the other skanky bints."

Hermione was getting annoyed now. This was a costume party, and if she wanted to have some fun and dress up as sexy maid _, no one_ —especially, not her uptight, stuck in the last century boyfriend was going to stop her.

"Stop being jealous," she snapped. "It doesn't become you. I'll see you there at nine, and don't sulk too much. Harry promised he'd invite some Slytherins, so you wouldn't feel out of place. Wasn't that nice of him? The portkey is in the kitchen, and I can't wait for you to show off your costume."

"La-fucking-da _. Saint Potter_  strikes again," he said, glowering.

"What was that?"

" _Oh,nothing_ —I just said I'll miss you."

She smiled at her boyfriend and rewarded him with a quick kiss.

"I'll miss you too. But—I really need to leave now. Don't forget there's a ribbon for your hair."

She ruffled his hair and disappeared with a crack.

  
  


****

**: : :**

  
  
  


Draco carefully tied the red ribbon in his long hair; over the last year, his hair had grown so long that it was starting to curl at the ends. He looked in the mirror and glowered.

"I look like a fucking girl! I  _can't_  go out like this," he shouted at his reflection.

He attempted to smooth out his puffy sleeves, but failed again. "Bugger it. I need help!"

He scrawled a note to Pansy and hoped that she would get there quickly. Hopefully she wasn't in the middle of getting her hair done or something important like that.

  


* * *

__

_Pansy,_

__

_I have a fashion emergency and need you ASAP!_

__

_Love,_

__

_—D_

* * *

  
  
Within minutes, Pansy showed up in his living room. She was one of the few  
guests who had immediate access to Draco and Hermione's complex wards. She was looking a little dishevelled, but quite pleased with herself. Her usually immaculate hair was sticking up in the back, and he could've sworn that her lipstick was smudged. Her pale cheeks were quite flushed—all in all, it was very unlike Pansy.

"Pans—it's great to see you, but it looks like I caught you at a bad time." He  
regarded her closely, taking in her wrinkled skirt and messy appearance. "Did I  _interrupt_  something?" he asked pointedly.

"No, not at all, darling," Pansy answered coolly, as she tried to flatten her feathery hair.

" _Actually_ —you saved me from having to reciprocate a favour that I wasn't looking forward to," she said smirking.

Draco chuckled at his best friend and leaned over to give her a quick peck on the lips, as was their customary greeting.

"My little minx," he teased affectionately. "You always were rather selfish in bed—if I recall." He leered at her knowingly.

She punched him in the arm and returned his smirk. "You're one to talk, my dear. Although—from what I hear from Loopy Luna, Granger has no complaints in  _that_  department. In fact, I hear—"

"Pans—that's enough."

"No, it's not—but OH MY SALAZAR! What the fuck are you wearing?" she squealed, obviously scandalised as she flailed her arms dramatically.

"Uh—I"

"Don't tell me  _that_  hideous ensemble is your costume?" she accused, her dark eyes widening.

Draco remained silent.

"Merlin, Draco. I knew that shacking up with a Gryffindor would have some adverse effects on you—but I didn't know it would ruin your already horrid fashion sense."

She ran a perfectly manicured hand through her messy hair and shook her head at him.

"Ha ha—really funny, Pans," Draco rebuked, scowling. "I lost a bet, which is why I'm stuck in— _this_." He gestured exaggeratedly at the costume much in the same manner as Pansy had done earlier.

"And what exactly is  _wrong_  with my fashion sense?" he accused, glaring at his best friend.

Pansy avoided the question and decided to change the subject.

"What are you supposed to be anyway?"

"A vampire."

" _Ohhhh_ —I thought you were a fashionably challenged French nobleman."

Draco shrugged. "Close enough. I'm Count Dracula."

"Well, that just won't do. You can't show up wearing  _that;_ you'll be eaten alive." She looked at him solemnly. "All the Slytherins are going to be there."

"Really?" Draco asked. "I thought only a few were invited."

Pansy frowned. "Let me rephrase this for you, darling—in simpler terms, so that pretty blond head of yours will understand. ALL of the  _important_  Slytherins are going to be there. The _rest_ —simply don't matter." She put her hand on his shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes, her dark eyes sombre. "And—if you're not careful,  _you_  might wind up in that latter group. A fate worse than death, my dear."

"Fuck. What am I going to do? I can't show up like this." Draco sighed and covered his face with his hands. "My life is over."

Pansy smiled at her best friend sympathetically.

"Well, what were the exact terms of the bet? Did she say you  _had_  to dress up as Count Dracula or just a vampire?"

Draco smiled at Pansy, one of his dazzling, rare smiles that he only shared with a select few.  _She's brilliant. A loophole,of course. Why didn't I think of that?_

"Just a vampire," he said, still grinning.

"Marvellous. Now, let's get to work. There must be some better dressed vampires."  
She threw her cloak and purse on the couch, and then rolled up the sleeves of her silk blouse. "Now, let's do some research. Doesn't Granger have one of those internet boxy thingies?"

Draco's smile faded, and he scowled at his friend. "Yes, she does. But—don't tell me that  _you_  know how to use it? What's happened to you, Pans? That's so— _Muggle_ ," he spat, making sure to say Muggle as distastefully as possible.

"Oh, just  _shut up_  and get with the times."

She pulled the collar of his robe and forcefully yanked the ribbon out of his hair.

"Oww! What was that for?"

"One—it was for insulting me," she replied, her gaze baleful. "And two—it 's because you look like a bloody girl with that hairstyle! Now, do you want my help or not?"

  
  


****

**: : :**

  
  


After what seemed like hours, but was actually only a few minutes later, Pansy squealed.

"I found it, Draco! I found the _perfect_  vampire costume for you." She grinned at him proudly.

"I suppose that box is useful after all," Draco admitted reluctantly. "What is it?"

Pansy motioned to a picture of Stuart Townsend dressed in tight leather trousers and a sheer clingy tee-shirt.  _Oh my, please tell me that all Muggles look like this._

"No fucking way, Pans! I don't know what  _that_  is, but that's  _not_  a vampire." His grey eyes were intense and narrowing at her. _He's such a swot, so devastatingly boring. Granger must rubbing off on him._

"Sure it is, love," Pansy said calmly. "That—my dear Draco—is the Vampire Lestat. He's perfect." She grinned even wider than before and continued prattling. "It says right here that he's a vampire turned rock star."

She locked eyes with Draco and laughed. "For _once_ , you could use that pouty look and scowl to your advantage."   
  


****

**: : :**

  
  
  


Draco sneered at his friend; she was absolutely bonkers if she thought he was going to dress up like  _that_. Still, he couldn't stop staring at the screen; in a weird way, this Stuart something or other was a sexy, sexy man.

"I'm a genius, I know. You're speechless."

"NO! Absolutely not. He's indecent and wearing leather. Malfoys don't wear leather," he said gravely, crossing his arms.

Pansy sighed loudly; while he knew that she was only trying to help, it wasn't his fault that all of her ideas were utterly absurd.

" _Well_ , you can wear dragonhide if the leather bothers you. It's not as sexy, but certainly less Muggle." She smiled at him trying to coax him into accepting her suggestion. "Besides, you always look dashing in green."  _I will not fall for your flattery. Again._

Draco continued to stare at Pansy with his arms uncomfortably crossed, but he remained silent.  _Fucking Sleeves. Note to self: destroy all Muggle peasant shirts. Immediately._

"Now, get over here. We have to cut your hair," she said, completely ignoring  
his scowl. "You need that sexy, tousled just shagged look he's rocking."

"No fucking way. I can see that you've gone barmy, but still that's no excuse for forcing your bat-shit craziness on me." He paused. "Look, I know it's all the rage in  _Wizarding Vogue_ right now to embrace Muggle traditions—but we're  _purebloods_ ," he insisted. " _This_ —is going much too far. Think of what my mother would say. She's been through enough already."

Pansy pulled him by his hideous collar again, choking him harshly.

Draco gasped. "Owww—what  _is_ wrong with you? You seriously are mental."

"I'm just trying to choke some sense into you, you self-righteous twat." She  
glowered at him fiercely. "Draco—darling, get with the times! You are a  _young_  22-year-old wizard, not a 50-year-old man." She shuddered. "Or worse yet _—your_  father or  _my_  father. Pureblood tradition is _out_ —it's  _so_  yesterday. Accept it."

"Pans—you can't be serious—"

This time she smacked him upside the head and pulled a strand of his fair hair out.  _Not my hair. My poor, poor hair!_

"Shut up, I was speaking," she said through gritted teeth. " _Fuck_  pureblood tradition—where did all that rubbish get us anyhow?"

She grabbed his arm forcibly and rolled up his left sleeve exposing the cause of so many nightmares and blood spill. He couldnt' help but wince as he was confronted with the slightly faded but still entirely recognisable Dark Mark. He had tried everything to get rid of the Mark, including covering it with a Muggle tattoo, but nothing affected it. The Mark was completely unalterable; it would always serve as an immutable reminder of the darkness that had almost devoured him, an unyielding scar of his everlasting penance that he could  never complete.  _Why the fuck was she bringing this up now?_

"Stop squirming, Draco. Look at what your precious pureblood ideas got you!"  
She was laughing manically now and never relinquished her grip on his  
arm. Draco was terrified.

"Let's see," she continued, her voice dark and high-pitched, "it got  _you_  a  
hideous, permanent tattoo, and your father and my father thrown into  
Azkaban for the rest of their sad, pathetic lives!" She was fuming now,  
her pale cheeks flushing.

"But—"

She shot him her don't you dare fuck with me glare and Draco gulped; never  
cross a fellow Slytherin if you can help it. It always ends badly.

"As for our mothers," she continued, her tone more casual now, "well, let's just say, I ran into  _our_  mothers all dolled up in tight Muggle dresses; it was just the other night."

Draco bit his tongue, hard; he needed to keep from commenting. His mother out and about in slutty Muggle clothes.  _That's preposterous!_

"They were having the time of their lives, Draco, at the  _Dragon's Egg Lounge_ ," she said, stressing the name of the lounge carefully.

Draco had tried to keep quiet, but he just couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Liar! My mother would _never_  step foot into that sleazy dance club," he snarled, his eyes blistering and his face even redder than Pansy's. "She has standards. And at  her age—that's indecent!"   _Mum?!_

"Well, indecent or not, she was there. I saw it and I have witnesses too. I was there with Daphne and Blaise. And—even Blaise's mouth dropped when he saw Narcissa and Olivia painted up like 6th year slags. It gets worse though." Pansy took a deep breath. "I don't know how to tell you this, but they were hanging off the arms of two rather fit blokes—that  _um_ couldn't have been a day over 25," she finished hastily.

She paused and watched his flabbergasted expression. "I'm sorry."

"Twenty-five? Twenty-five?  _My mother_ —with a 25 year old! No. You must've been mistaken. They're just acquaintances. I'm sure of it."

Draco was becoming quite pale now; his flushed cheeks had faded, and he could  
feel his chest constricting. He started tugging at the collar of his unsightly cape. "Is it getting hot in here?"

"No, it's not. But—trust me, they were  _more_  than acquaintances. Later on, I caught Narcissa and her boy toy  _snogging_  in the backroom— _like teenagers_ ," she squeaked, noticeably scandalised at her admission.

****

**: : :**

  
  
  


Before Pansy could continue, Draco fainted and landed on the floor with a loud thud.

_Fucking Draco and his histrionics. I knew that I shouldn't have told him. I swear that when we were dating people thought he was the girl in the relationship. Thank Merlin, Blaise doesn't have a flair for dramatics._

Pansy waited a few minutes in order to give Draco adequate time to recuperate, and then she threw a glass of water on him; he quickly roused from his daze and dried himself off.   _Oh good, he's alive._ She helped Draco sit down on the couch and then plopped down next to him just in case he passed out again.  _Fragile boy._  She was really trying hard here; she even offered him her most charming smile and patted him on the head.

"Oh, don't worry, darling," she said sweetly. "It wasn't  _that_  bad; they were  _only_  snogging. I couldn't even find Olivia—Salazar knows where she and her bloke disappeared to." _Yeah,she was probably off fucking him in one of the toilet  stalls or worse yet the back alley.  Fucking Olivia, she's such a hypocrite always  
telling me that I'm a whore.  Aagh._

Draco ignored her comment. "My mother—a tawdry, street whore—a hungry cougar. What—what would Father say? Poor Father." 

_Sod Lucius. I thought that sorry bastard was done tormenting us._

"Poor Father!" Pansy shrieked, she was more than a little agitated. "Draco, your mother is a grown woman. She can take care of  _herself_ , and doesn't she deserve a little bit of happiness after all she's been through? All that you've been through?" She grabbed Draco by the shoulders again.

"Listen to me," she said sternly. "And as for your father and my father too—all they ever did was cause  _us_  pain. Or did you forget that little detail?" She averted her eyes from Draco's. "They deserve what they got."

Draco gasped. "You don't mean that. How can you talk about your father like that? He's _your_ father," he argued. "Don't you feel the slightest bit of sympathy for him? Fuck, he's serving a life sentence."

"No, I don't," Pansy replied darkly. "Not even a little bit." She paused.  
  
"And you shouldn't either. How can you defend Lucius—after everything? He-he let  _that monster_  into your house—Vincent is dead. And so is Theo." Her dark eyes were shining with unshed tears. "How can you forget? I can't forgive them, not _ever_. And you shouldn't either."

  
  
****

**: : :**

  
  


Tears were actually falling now, streaming down her pale but beautiful face. Her dark eyes usually so vibrant and full of life were empty; now they were just glassy and resigned.

"Draco," she cried, practically choking on the words. "They hurt you so badly. I could've lost you. Merlin—I almost did. I-I—"

Draco couldn't bear seeing his friend in such distress; he hated seeing girls cry, especially girls that were important to him. He threw his arms around her and hugged her fiercely, proving to her that he was tangible and alright. He placed a trail of light kisses on her forehead and tried his best to comfort her. He really was shite at dealing with crying women.

"It's okay," he soothed. "I'm here. Nothing's happened to me. You'll always  
have me, Pans." He paused for a minute and just rubbed circles on her back. "You're my best friend, you know that," he said as he brushed a stray hair from her tear-stained face."You're right—you know," he admitted reluctantly. "You were always more like my family than Lucius ever was." He summoned a handkerchief and wiped the stray tears from her eyes. "I hate to see you so upset, love. What can I do to make you feel better?"

Pansy wiped the remaining moisture from her eyes and tried to fix her smudged mascara.

"Well," she cooed, "you can let me cut your hair and dress you for the costume party," she said innocently. "Styling hair _always_ makes me feel better. Especially—fabulous hair like yours." Her dark eyes were shining brightly again.

Draco groaned and hit himself on the forehead; he had walked straight into Pansy's trap.  _These women will be the death of me. I'm losing my touch._

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "You win, Pans. Do your worst. Just don't cut it too short." He wrinkled his forehead. "And no makeup," he added.

"Oh-but you would look so pretty in drag…"

Draco shot her a warning look, and for once she backed down.

"Alright, no makeup. Just you wait—you'll be smashing, darling. When I'm through with you, you'll be the fittest bloke there."

"Right."

  
  



	2. World's Most Horrid Costume

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco loses a bet to Hermione, so she gets to pick out his costume for Potter's Halloween Party.  What happens when Draco shows up at Potter's party after Pansy give him a bit of a makeover? A bit of Slytherin mayhem, of course.

**Title:** Malfoys Don't Wear Leather  
 **Author:[](http://icicle33.livejournal.com/profile)[ **icicle33**](http://icicle33.livejournal.com/)  
Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter or any part of the Harry  
Potter universe. I'm just obsessed with the characters and like to play  
with them from time to time. Don't sue. Also, the character of the Vampire Lestat belongs to Anne Rice.   
**Pairings:** DM/HG, PP/BZ and **urequited** DM/HP  
 **Warnings:** No warnings that I can think of except for silliness and Slytherin antics. This  fic features a manipulative Pansy, a bossy and jealous Hermione, as well as  
shy, but still snarky Draco, and a clueless and smitten Harry.   
**Summary:** Draco loses a bet to Hermione, so she gets to pick out his costume for Potter's Halloween Party.  What happens when Draco shows up at Potter's party after Pansy give him a bit of a makeover? A bit of Slytherin mayhem, of course.    
**Author's note:**  This fic was originally written for the [](http://dramionedrabble.livejournal.com/profile)[**dramionedrabble**](http://dramionedrabble.livejournal.com/) community on  lj for the October challenge. I expanded it from the original drabble of roughly 1500 words.    


Also, this fic takes place in 2003, which is relevant to why a certain costume was  
chosen. Enjoy.

* * *

_Part II: Potter's Fabulous Costume Party_

**: : :**

  
The party started at nine, but Draco wanted to be fashionably late. That's something he learned from his mother. She always liked to arrive late, so everyone would see her entrance. Well, there was no way that anyone would miss Draco's entrance tonight. Pansy had run home to get ready herself, so she abandoned him and forced him to show up to the party  _all alone._  
  
 _Damn Hermione and her do-gooder ways._  Of course, she had agreed to come early and help Potter set up and decorate. No, Draco was on his own; he probably should've Flooed over to Pansy's first, but it was too late now. Besides, Pansy had picked out his costume and gushed about how gorgeous he looked.  
  
But that was just Pansy.  
  
In truth, he felt ridiculous. He was dressed in tight dragonhide trousers and a sheer long-sleeved black shirt. He had insisted on wearing a black leather jacket over the sheer shirt; he claimed that he might get cold, but the truth was that he felt exposed. After all, he did have  _some_  standards. Besides the outfit, Pansy had also cropped his long hair to just below his collarbone and tousled it with  
some hair product. Pansy claimed it gave him a just shagged look that everyone would fawn over, but to Draco, it just looked untidy—kind of like Potter's stupid hair. It was going to take some getting used to; he missed his long ponytail that he always kept neatly tied behind his  
back.  
  
But at least he had his shoes. Pansy had allowed him to wear his own pair of black Italian leather shoes instead of the hideous motorcycle boots she had picked out; of course, there was a price to pay. He had to compromise the rest of his dignity in order to wear his Prada loafers because she insisted on outlining his eyes with black kohl in exchange for the shoes.  _That girl is pure evil._  
  
At first he had protested fervently, but enough damage was going to be  
done to his reputation with this costume anyhow, so he figured he should just go all the way _. The Vampire Lestat my arse._  
  
 _Hermione will pay for this._  
 

**: : :**

  
When he finally worked up the courage to enter the party, all eyes were on him. Perhaps it hadn't been the best idea to arrive so late; it was after ten and all the other guests had already arrived. Everyone was ogling him, and quite a few girls and even some blokes, were licking their lips and eyeing him as if he were a piece of a meat or some type of decadent dessert.  
  
Draco had never been more embarrassed. Sure, he knew he was attractive; people had been telling him that all his life, but he was a Malfoy. Malfoys were handsome and clean cut; they were not eye candy and definitely not a 2 sickle rent boy the way he was now dressed. Once he heard cat calls, Draco was about to turn around and leave, but Pansy grabbed him by the arm.  
  
"There you are, _darling_ ," she proclaimed louder than necessary; she held his arm in a death grip. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming. You look fantastic—the  
fittest bloke here—just like I predicted."  
  
Draco blushed at the compliment, and then Pansy leaned in and kissed him right on the lips as was their customary greeting. This time, however, the kiss seemed to last longer than usual.  _What was she playing at?_  
  
Draco panicked and scanned the room for his girlfriend; he didn't think she would appreciate him kissing another girl, even if it was Pansy. Luckily, she was nowhere in sight. He breathed out heavily and decided he needed a drink or five, but getting to the bar proved to be a rather daunting task. On his way to the bar, he was mobbed; a gang of former Slytherin and Ravenclaw girls were surrounding him.  _Did someone just pinch my arse? Not cool._  
  
"Draco, Draco."  
  
"Hi, Draco!"  
  
"Wow, Draco! How have you been?"  
  
"Owl me later, Draco. I'd love to catch up."  
  
"Then owl me," another girl whispered into his ear and kissed him on the cheek. Draco's head was spinning; he was not used to receiving this type of attention.  
  
"Leave him alone," a familiar voice demanded. The other girls gave him some space, and Draco looked up to thank his saviour; he was more than a little surprised to see it was Daphne Greengrass. Daphne was one of Pansy's  closest girlfriends, but  _he_  had never been close with her. Back in school, Draco had a crush on Daphne, but she could never be bothered with him. She barely even acknowledged him now.  _What is going on?_  
  
"Hi Draco," she rasped, her voice sultry and more seductive than usual. She was still breathtaking with her dark red hair and vivid green eyes.  
  
"Daphne—" he managed to choke out after a long pause.  
  
"Long time no see," she said, a smug smile playing on her bright red lips. "It's good to see you." She looked him up and down and appeared to devour him with her eyes. " _Really_  good to see you."  
  
Then she leaned in and planted a kiss right on his lips; the kiss was a lot less chaste than the one Pansy had greeted him with earlier _._ He just stood there hands pasted at his sides and his whole body paralysed.  
  
"Ahem," said a well-known voice behind him, as she violently cleared her throat.  _Fuck. I'm dead._  
  
"Daphne," the voice continued, "would you kindly remove your filthy hands from  _my_  boyfriend?"  
  
Daphne released Draco and scowled. Draco didn't know her very well, but she didn't seem like the type of girl that you could just order around.  
  
"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Granger. I was just saying hello to an  _old_ friend. No harm done." Her vibrant eyes were scorching, pugnacious even, an obvious threat behind cordial words.  _Old friend my arse._  
  
Hermione groaned loudly and dragged Draco away from his group of zealous admirers before he even had a chance to respond.  
  
"Hi honey," Draco said innocently, desperately hoping that Hermione wouldn't kill him.  
  
"Don't you dare—hi honey me,  _Malfoy_. What the hell do you think you're doing?" Her dark eyes were blazing as she regarded him closely. "And what are you wearing!"  
  
"Don't you like it? I'm the Vampire Lestat," he said and watched her frown deepen. "Pansy picked it out." He gulped.  
  
"I'm sure  _she_  did. What happened to the costume that _I_  picked out?"  
  
"Um-well, it was kind of itchy and you never specified  _which_  vampire—you just said vampire."  
  
Hermione sighed loudly and looked him up and down again. "I suppose that's true."  
  
"Don't you like it?" he asked concerned. "Is it really that bad?" Draco looked down at the floor, attempting to hide behind his long fringe; he thought she would at least find the costume amusing.  
  
Hermione sighed again. "No, I don't  _hate_  it." She ran her fingers through his messy hair. "I love the hair."  
  
Draco blinked at her, his kohl lined eyes widening.  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Yes, I do. It's quite sexy, Mr Malfoy."  
  
"It's  _Mr Lestat_  tonight," Draco drawled, a lascivious smirk playing on his lips.  
  
"Oh really?" Hermione giggled and then leaned into give Draco a kiss on the lips, his third of the  
evening _. Blimey—he was having a good night!_  
  
"And who are you supposed to be?" he asked, studying her costume. She was wearing a skin-tight black pleather unitard and cat ears. It was strange, but she looked stunning.  
  
"She's Catwoman," an unfamiliar voice interjected.  
  
"What?" Draco looked up to scorn his intruder and almost laughed when he saw a mummy.  
  
"And you are?" he drawled, his voice cold.  _What kind of freak dresses up like a mummy?_  
  
"It's me, Harry," the mummy replied.  _Ahh yes, that kind of freak._  
  
 _"_ Oh,  _Potter_. That's quite a costume. It suits you—I should say." He couldn't help but smirk at his former rival; Potter was just too easy.  _How that mess ever managed to defeat Voldemort will always remain a mystery?_  
  
" _But_  you didn't even recognise me," the Potter mummy complained.  
  
"Precisely," Draco drawled.  _Wow, Potter was extra slow tonight._  
  
"Oh," Potter said, his face full of disappointment.  
  
Hermione pinched his arm. She whispered, "Be nice," in his ear and then excused herself.  
 

**. . .**

Draco was alone with Potter _. Fuck. This must be my punishment for kissing Daphne_.  _Figures._  
Potter flashed him a goofy grin, and Draco had no idea how to respond. He didn't speak idiot Gryffindor.  
  
"So, Potter—where's your other half?"  
  
Potter looked confused. "You know the ginger one," he clarified.  
  
Potter looked a tad less dejected and smiled at Draco again. He looked like a ridiculous besotted schoolgirl.  
  
"He's out back," Potter replied, while playing with some of his mummy wraps. "He's flying with some of the other Gryffindors."  
  
"Flying?"  
  
"Yeah, they all came as a Quidditch team."  
  
"Figures," Draco drawled. "You Gryffindors can't get enough of riding broomsticks." Draco sneered at Potter, but Potter just looked confused again.  _Boy was he thick._  
  
"Yeah, I guess so. We just like team sports…that's all."  
  
"Right."  
  
The silence was excruciating; Draco had no idea what to say and Potter just kept grinning at him.  _Bloody pillock._  
  
"Are you having fun?" Potter asked, his eyes full of concern.  
  
" _Tons_."  
  
"That's great, Malfoy! It's so nice that we get on now."  
  
"Right," Draco replied dryly. Potter smiled at him shyly. Obviously, Potter didn't understand sarcasm either.  
  
"So—Malfoy, you look  _great_  tonight." He opened his emerald eyes wider and looked Draco up and down in the same manner that the girls had done earlier. "You make a really great uh-uh-uh—"  
  
"Vampire."  
  
"That's what I meant!"  
  
 _This must be what hell feels like. Somebody AK me now._  
   
 

**: : :**

   
After what felt like hours, Hermione returned. There's no way she could  _still_ be angry with him.  _How could she subject me to Potter?_  
  
"Harry—do you mind if I borrow Draco for a second?" Hermione asked sweetly.  
  
"Sure," Potter replied, although he looked disappointed _. Potter is weird. Positively mental. There's no other explanation._  
  
Once they were far away from Potter, Draco let out a deep breath. "Oh, sweet Merlin! You saved me," Draco moaned. "I think Potter just tried to  _hit_  on me. You know—for the saviour of the wizarding world, that bloke has no game."  
  
Hermione chuckled loudly and rearranged the cat ears she had tied in her frizzy hair.  
  
"Well, you do look hot."  
  
"Not as hot as you, love," he said smoothly. "What happened to the French maid costume anyway? Not that I'm complaining. That cat suit, suits you quite nicely." He raised his eyebrows at her and smirked.  
  
"Oh  _well_ , I thought about what you said. And you were right—a French maid costume was not me. It goes against all my principles," Hermione replied in her usual lecture voice, but then she returned Draco's devious smirk. "So—tell me all about this Catwoman. She sounds fascinating." Draco leaned in closer and placed a couple of discreet kisses on her neck.  
  
She smiled at him again, a breathtaking, radiant smile, which he welcomed unlike Potter's lewd grins.  
"Catwoman is an independent woman. She makes her own way in the world. And actually she's a  _villain_."  
  
"A villain, huh?" Draco asked, now intrigued.  
  
She leaned in closer to Draco and put her arms around his neck.  
  
"Yes. And I heard you have a thing for villains."  
  
"Well, I am an  _evil_  Malfoy after all."  
  
Hermione chuckled again, her cheeks flushed and her dark eyes beaming at him.  _Fuck, she's beautiful_.  _How did I get so lucky?_ This time, Draco leaned in to give his girlfriend a not so innocent kiss.  
  
"I love you,  _Ms_ Granger," Draco whispered, as he pulled her closer for another kiss. Hermione rewarded him with another devastating smile.  
  
"Mmm, I love you too, Mr Malfoy."  
  
 _Perhaps Pansy does know what she's talking about after all. And—did I just see Potter run out of the room crying? Oh, well._  
  
 **~Fin**  
   
  


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**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading. = )

 


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